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October 8, 2011

Read One Of My Short Stories: Next Door

Anna pulled aside curtains of long
branches, lightly moving the twigs to reveal more jade stalks. While playing on
her porch, she had heard a door open and feet scuffle, noises from the house
next door. But a tall, dense wall of hedges blocked the neighbor’s house from
view.

She had decided to explore.

And now, Anna was lost in a green
sea, drowning in scratchy leaves.

She hadn’t meant to go so far in.
Curiosity made her push a few stalks to the side, trying only to catch a
glimpse. Nothing could be seen, so she kept inching forward until she was
here—standing in the middle of a green forest with no notion of how to get out.
It was as though she were trapped in an emerald gem—a beautiful prison.

Pushing and pulling against the
branches, Anna forced her way forward. Tiny twigs scratched her face, leaves
entangled themselves in her hair, and the ribbons of her dress trailed behind
her, trapped in the foliage. Her interest in the noise next door had given way
to a desire to escape and Anna spurred onwards, uncaring of the direction,
ignoring the crackling of breaking twigs and the munching of her shoes stomping
on leaves.

Growing nervous, Anna reached out
her hand, but met only empty space and no more pesky twigs. A smile broadened
her rosy cheeks. She had reached the end.

Excited, she ignored her judgment
and jumped through the opening, catching her ankle on a branch. Twisting in
midair, she landed in wet grass with a thud, finally dirtying her dress beyond
repair. But that didn’t matter. Above her, blue stretched across a cloudless
sky and there was no sign of a green anything.

She was free.

Giggling with mirth, Anna stood and
began to clean herself off—pulling at the little stems in her hair and plucking
the bush leaves that had attached to her knotted brown tresses.

“Excuse me?”

Anna straightened immediately and
turned slowly towards the sound.

A boy stood behind her with his
weight resting on one leg and his head cocked inquisitively to the side. He had
shaggy black hair and deep brown skin made warm by the sun. Next to his feet
stood a stack of pristine white paper, ruffling slightly in the breeze but held
down by a rock. In his hand, resting between relaxed fingers, was one bright
sheet, luminous in the sunlight. It was tightly folded together in the shape of
a triangle.

“What are you doing?” Anna stepped
a little closer.

She had never been so alone with a
boy—her mother was usually around, and in school, she only played with her
friends. During summer, the hedges of her vacation home usually held her
trapped.

But not today.

“What am I doing?” He asked, while looking at her strangely,
brows scrunched and lips slightly upturned.

“Yes…with that paper?” She was
hesitant, nervous to talk to him and wondering if she should just fight her way
back through the hedge.

“Making paper airplanes,” he said
with a shrug and then slowly creased the sheet with his thumb.

The boy didn’t ask why she had
come, and Anna didn’t know what to do. He had turned away from her, back to the
project by his feet. So she just stood for a moment, unsure, watching him fold
the paper. Her eyes flicked around the yard, a nervous habit. Over his shoulder
stood a towering house, just like hers, with a wrap around porch and peachy
walls. So familiar. So foreign.

Anna looked at the boy again. He
was still ignoring her, working on his papers, so she sat down next to him to
watch. He folded one side, then flipped the paper quickly around and folded
again, flipped again, folded again, and suddenly he held a perfectly formed
plane in his hand.

But could the paper fly? Anna
wondered, itching to test her question.

The boy silently handed her the
plane.

The paper was smooth against her
skin, folded firm and hardly bendable. So unlike anything she was used to. Anna
bit her lip, waiting for her next queue, hoping to soar.

But the boy just grabbed another
sheet and started to fold again, ignorant of the anxiety churning her stomach.
And yet, maybe not.

As he pushed down on his last fold,
the boy lifted his hand close to his eye and suddenly thrust it forward,
releasing the plane. The paper sailed at Anna, almost skimming her face as she
watched it fly passed, mesmerized.

Anna grinned and turned to the boy,
who shook his head. He took the first plane from her lap, and nodded, raising
his eyebrows as if to ask, are you ready?
Anna sat straighter, alert, and he loosed it into the air.

Instinctively, she snatched it from
the sky with her ready hand and they both smiled. She giggled nervously. The
boy went back to work, face determined as he folded, pressed, and flipped all
over again.

After a few minutes, a mountain of
airplanes sat between them. Each one was different—every style created a unique
flight path. Some raced, others slowly arched, and some gradually circled in
little loop-d-loops towards her open hand.

When he was finished with his work,
the boy held a plane out to her. “Do you want to try?”

Licking her lips, Anna took it. Her
fingers felt fat, stupid, as she lifted the paper close to her eye. Her heart
pounded. Her palms began to sweat, moistening the plane, warping it. Scared and
excited, she met the boy’s encouraging stare and launched the paper forward,
forcefully.

It spun to the ground and lodged
there, nose first.

Anna sunk with it.

“Here,” he said again, handing her
a new plane.

Again, it dropped from the sky.

The boy walked behind her, covered
her hand with his and placed a brand new plane in her palm. Shifting her
fingers, he showed her how to hold it. With one gentle squeeze, her thrust
their arms forward, higher and slower than Anna had done.

Together, the plane soared.

Anna laughed, and then smiled at
the boy, her heart fluttering. He held her hand a moment longer, meeting her
gaze. His fingers were warm. Like his eyes,
Anna thought. But then he stepped away and sat back down, the mound of planes
between them.

Anna picked up a new plane, holding
it the way he had shown her. This time, the little white airplane soared,
flying across the space between them and smacking the boy right in the chest.
He jolted, shocked, but Anna just laughed and grabbed a new plane. The boy
looked on, eying her curiously.

“What’s your name?” He asked,
separating the planes into two piles as he spoke.

“Anna,” she replied as she watched
his hands quickly move, flying through the air like one of his planes. “And
yours?”

“Landen.”

He filled his arms with one of the
piles and walked over to drop the planes on her lap, and then shuffled back to
his place. She tilted her head to the side questioningly, but he would reveal
nothing.

Suddenly, he grabbed one of his
planes and threw it straight up into the air as high as he could. Without
stopping to see where it went, he threw up another and another, barely pausing
for a breath. Anna quickly caught on and threw all of her planes into the air.
The little white papers swiftly disappeared in the glare of the sun, winking
out of existence.

Anna looked up, waiting for them to
come back down.

Landen moved closer, his eyes also
on the sky.

His nearness made her nervous,
causing her attention to shift just slightly. Her right side tingled, and Anna
fought to keep her eyes pointed up. A thrumming noise sounded in her ear, light
at first and then faster.

Her heart, she realized.

The tingling grew stronger. Anna
bit her lip and gave in, letting her gaze shift ever so slightly to the side.

Into his eyes.

They straightened, eyes locked
until a white plane fell swiftly between them.

Anticipating more, Anna looked at
the sky as tiny white specks began to appear. She flung her arms out to the
side and spun around, glee bubbling under her skin. Energy zipped through her
body. It had been wound there for a while, waiting for something to set it
free. A boy. A plane. Anna didn’t know. But now she was spinning so fast it
didn’t seem like she would be able to stop.

Planes slapped against her hands as
they dropped, and Anna laughed as the sky fell all around her. The more she
spun, the faster her laughter came and the faster the planes seemed to fall. She
spun and spun, and when streaks of whiteness no longer surrounded her, she fell
to the grass in a heap, crunching planes and leaves below her.

Her body shook with mirth, and she
rolled to the side, unable to stop herself. Landen was still standing, but she
couldn’t see his face. The sun was caught behind his head, silhouetting his
features, but she knew he was looking down. Anna laughed more, her sides
beginning to ache, but she watched as Landen walked around her, picking up the
planes that had scattered across the yard.

When he had finished, Landen sat
down beside her and began to fix all of the planes that had been crushed under
her weight.

Quiet now, Anna rolled over to
watch him work. The brilliant white paper, pearly against his bronze hands,
highlighted his every movement. Slowly, he smoothed his fingertips along the
creases, crisping each fold. She took one of the planes and began to work
alongside him, following his movements precisely. Her own hands nearly blended
with the paper, she realized while running her fingers along the fragile plane.

Landen reached out to help her, his
hand touching hers softly. Flustered, she broke the contact and picked up a
plane, letting it soar aimlessly across the yard. The white sheet drifted along
the hedges, visible against the deep myrtle backdrop as it fell slowly towards
the ground and sifted to a stop in a deep patch of grass.

“Anna!”

Jolted from her thoughts, Anna
looked into the bushes, trying to spot her mother across the way.

“Anna Marie!”

She jumped up and raced back
towards the hedges, stepping through the small hole created by her fall into
Landen’s yard.

“Bye!” Anna spun quickly for one
last look at Landen. He was sitting quietly on the grass with his head slightly
down-turned as he watched her go, surround by his paper airplanes. Some crisp.
Some crunched. All waiting for her to come back.

Another day, Anna silently promised.

Blinking, she turned back around
and reached her hand through the hedge, separating the sea of green before her.

“Anna! Where are you?”

“Coming, Mom!”

Leaves scrapped her face as she
forced her way past large branches and tiny twigs. But already, this little
path felt worn and traveled. A secret gateway. A private tunnel.

Through little breaks in the
shrubbery, Anna saw the side of her apricot home. Her mother stood on the front
stoop with her hands on her hips and an apron around her waist. Anna stumbled
out of the hedges, slowing herself, trying to be as quiet as possible to remain
hidden for just a few more steps.

But her mother’s acute eye whipped
towards her anyway. Bowing her head, playing ignorant, Anna walked over to her
mother.

“And where were you, Anna Marie?”

“I lost my…my ring and I needed to
go look for it in the… the hedge.”

“Inside the house now, young lady.
Clean up and then come downstairs. Dinner is almost ready,” her mother ordered
while smacking Anna’s bottom with a spatula.

Anna knew her mother wasn’t really
angry with her, but raced up the steps regardless. Once in her room, she opened
her curtains and peered out the window, trying to see into Landen’s yard. The
hedges stubbornly blocked her view. Anna could see nothing of the yard or the
boy she expected was still sitting there surrounded by a pile of paper
airplanes.

Reaching into her pocket, Anna
pulled out her own remnant of the afternoon—a crumpled plane. She cradled it
carefully, preciously.

Anna looked up, accidentally
catching her reflection in the vanity mirror across the room. Leaves were still
tangled in her hair. Little twigs were caught in twirls of knots. Faint pink
scratches lined her cheeks, dragging from the corner of her lips all the way to
her ears. Her summer dress was caked with dirt, smeared with grass stains, and
spotted with little holes.

Anna admired herself, turning
slightly to see her backside, pleased in some way by the untamed look she had
brought home. Moving from the mirror, she grabbed some tape from her drawer and
stuck the little white plane to her pink wall.

In a daze, Anna washed her face,
changed into a clean dress, and walked back down the stairs. Her family was
already sitting for dinner, and she took a seat beside her older sister. Her
mother was bringing the food in from the kitchen, her father was still in his
coat and tie, and her sister sat with her university boyfriend’s pin gleaming
from her chest. Anna sat up, matching her sister’s posture, and listened to her
family speak.

But the more her father droned on
about his workload, the more Anna’s posture slowly slackened and the more tuned
out she became. Instead, Anna looked out the window, imagining a pearly paper
plane drifting past and thinking of the boy who might have thrown it.

“Anna?” Something poked her left
leg and she turned toward her sister.

“What?”

“Are you alright? You’ve been
staring out the window for about half an hour.”

Once their plates were cleared,
Anna helped her mother clean the dishes. The radio played softly, slow tunes
that matched the quiet tempo of the evening. She sang along as she washed and
tried to clean out the dirt still under her nails.

When her work was done, Anna left
the kitchen, climbed the steps and walked back to her room. Looking at her
wall, she noticed the paper plane reflected blue in the darkness, catching the
moonlight. She opened her window, letting in the cool summer breeze, and curled
up under the covers of her twin bed.

That night, she dreamt of paper
airplanes, hundreds of them, filling the air and fluttering down to reveal a
tanned boy with dark hair folding more paper in his hands.

Anna woke feeling as though she
were still there with him in the sun. Not yet wanting to rise, she reached her
hands above her head and arched her back, stretching. A breeze swept into her room,
ruffling her things. Anna caught some movement on the bed.

As her waking eyes adjusted,
growing stronger, Anna smiled at the surprise. Sitting right there on her chest
was a paper airplane, bright in the light of the morning sun.